


Give and Take

by icandrawamoth



Series: Love's Oldest Enemy 'verse [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Plans, serious conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “I'm being relieved of command,” Wedge repeats numbly, sussing out the real meaning from between Admiral Ackbar's too-careful words and don't-hurt-his-feelings tone.





	Give and Take

“I'm being relieved of command,” Wedge repeats numbly, sussing out the real meaning from between Admiral Ackbar's too-careful words and don't-hurt-his-feelings tone. He shouldn't have been worried. A week ago, Wedge would have been outraged; now, even mild surprise feels like a colossal effort.

“Commander–”

“Not if you're taking my squadron away.”

“Wedge,” Ackbar continues, unperturbed by the interruption, “I hate to play hardball with you, but we both know you're in no condition to be commanding anyone right now. You need time to deal with your loss and start to heal.”

Wedge bristles. “I've already said I'm not taking leave. That's the last thing I want.”

“I still believe that is your best option, but I'm not going to force you. Not now.”

Wedge looks away. He knows Ackbar will have him grounded if it comes to that, and he's willing to do nearly anything to keep that from happening. He's already lost Tycho. If he loses his ability to fly as well...he simply won't be able to cope.

“I can still do my job,” Wedge argues, and even he can hear how feeble it sounds.

Ackbar eyes him, seriously but not unkindly. “Your current state added to the normal stresses of command has some worried about your health, myself included.”

Wedge hasn't lost his edge enough to not pick up on what he isn't saying. “And the rest?”

Ackbar folds his finny hands atop the desk. “I respect you enough not to sugarcoat this, my friend. There have been questions about your ability to lead following this incident.”

“I'm being punished.” Wedge closes his eyes, the bloom of Tycho's X-wing disintegrating right there like it's just happened. “I know there was more I could have done to save him. If I had been faster, more alert–”

“No. I've read your reports and those of your pilots, Wedge. The incident was tragic but nothing that was brought about through fault of your own.”

“Then why take the Rogues from me?”

“There were always questions about the wisdom of allowing you and Captain Celchu to continue serving together in such a capacity once the nature of your relationship was known, but the results you two and your squadron were able to achieve convinced everyone to look away. Not anymore.”

Understanding trickles into Wedge like cold water. “You think I'm likely to coddle the rest of the squadron or make more reserved decisions for fear of losing anyone else.”

“Yes. And we can't have that. You know as well as anyone that second-guessing gets people killed. I wish I could give you time, but with Isard on the loose with her _Lusankya_ , we're going to need Rogue Squadron ready to go the instant she shows her face.”

Wedge can only nod, feeling suddenly weary. He gets that a lot these days. He's never had his ability to command questioned to his face like this, and he resents it. Even moreso for the fact that he can't tell Ackbar he's wrong.

“What will you do with me, then?” Wedge asks heavily.

Ackbar gives him a tiny, encouraging smile. “You will remain with Rogue Squadron as a pilot. I have already worked out transfer orders with Hobbie Klivian and Wes Janson, who will take over as CO and XO respectively. You will take a temporary reduction in rank to captain in respect to your new position. In six months, we will reevaluate your situation and proceed from there.” The Admiral pulls a datapad from his desk, taps a few buttons and presents it to Wedge. “Everything is in place, you only need to sign.”

Wedge takes the device and scrolls to the bottom of the document and the box that awaits his signature without bothering to read anything. He trusts Ackbar gave him the most important details. He slides out the stylus, has it poised above the screen to write his name when the Mon Calamari's hand lands on his and he looks up.

“This is temporary, Wedge,” Ackbar tells him solemnly. “I have every confidence that you will find your way through this maelstrom and, with time and patience, things will return to the way they were.”

Wedge swallows the words he wants to say. That without Tycho, things can never be the way they were. _He_ can't be who he was. But that's hardly something Ackbar and his other superiors will find encouraging. Instead, he only nods, grips the stylus in blessedly steady fingers and signs.

Ackbar takes the datapad when he's finished. “Klivian and Janson will be back on Coruscant within the week. I suggest you start to get your things in order for the change.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wedge stands, weariness in every fiber of his body, and manages a salute before dragging himself out the door. He thinks he'll have a nap first. At least when he's asleep everything doesn't feel so overwhelming.

 

A few days later, Wedge is in his office – well, not his office anymore – when there's a tap at the door. He thumbs off the holocube he's been watching listlessly, dashes a hand across his eyes, and calls, “Enter.”

The door slides open, and there's Hobbie, hunching like he's trying to appear smaller than he is, a torn look on his face. “Hey...” he murmurs.

“Hey.” Wedge casts his eyes around the room, not wanting to meet his friend's gaze. “Sorry, I should've had my stuff out of here by now. I wasn't sure exactly when you were coming.”

“I could have sent a message,” Hobbie says quietly. “Or commed. But I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“You're here now.” Wedge makes himself look at him. “What do you have to say?”

Hobbie winces, coming to stand awkwardly in front of the desk. “I want you to know I didn't ask for this. I never wanted to take the Rogues from you. When I initially proposed the transfer, it was just to be here to support you. Maybe to take over XO duties if you wanted me.”

“I know that.” Wedge had honestly never questioned it. He understands the decision was above both their heads. Hobbie is his friend; Wedge knows he would never do anything to hurt him, especially now.

“I didn't say no, though,” Hobbie goes on, words pouring out like he can't hold them back. “I think this is the right thing, you know? I think it'll be better for you to have less on your plate while you're dealing with this.”

Wedge sighs, drops his head into his hands. “Everyone keeps telling me what's best.” He wonders, briefly, what Tycho would tell him, but cuts the thought off. That road only leads to more pain.

“Wedge...” There's a hand on his shoulder, and Wedge raises his head again, sees the look on Hobbie's face that means he wants to say more but doesn't know how.

“I know,” Wedge says. He sits back in the chair, and Hobbie's hand slips away from him. “Honestly, if it can't be me, I'm glad it's you.” He tries to look grateful. “The Rogues are in good hands with you, Hobbie.”

“Thanks.” It looks like it causes him pain to accept the compliment. “It'll be weird being your commander. I never expected that to happen.”

“You'll be fine. Just treat me like you would anyone else. I know I don't have a say in it, but have you put any thought toward who you'll be pairing me with?”

“You'll be with me as Rogue Two,” Hobbie tells him. “We haven't settled on the rest, but we want that for sure.”

“So you can keep an eye on me.”

“Yes. Wedge.” Hobbie's voice gets firmer as he gives him a piercing look. “To tell you the truth, I'm not sure you're fit to be flying at all. I won't lie: I'm going to be watching you closely. I don't want to have to do it, but if I feel like you're distracted enough to be a danger to yourself and this squadron, I will ground you.”

“And you were worried about commanding me.” Wedge doesn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice as he levers himself heavily to his feet. “Anyway, I'm in your chair. Haven't taken my stuff out of command quarters either.”

“Don't worry about it. Wes and I can always share one of the regular rooms.”

Wedge almost insists but stops short. He isn't sure whether he wants to leave that room or not. On one hand, it had been where he lived with Tycho, though not for long. Part of him wants to cling to that like he's clinging to every tiny piece of his partner he has left. The rest wants to be far away from the reminder of what he's lost.

He doesn't have to make that choice right this minute, he decides, and asks instead, “Where is Wes?”

“Here somewhere, but he agreed to let me talk to you alone.”

Wedge nods, not knowing what to say that. He knows this is a conversation they had to have and will probably keep having. “It's funny Command has no problem with you leading squadrons together after the guff they gave me and Tycho and what they're saying to me now.” The words come out almost without conscious decision, and he's proud of how there's only the slightest tremble on the name.

Hobbie frowns. “They might not know.”

Wedge hears the words he doesn't say, how he and Wes were never as blatant as Wedge and Tycho, haven't been together as long. Just the thought spears right through his chest, punches his breath out, that constant reminder of how his life is now _before_ and _after_.

Hobbie is watching him, teeth worrying his lip as he tries to figure out what to say next. Wedge is torn between snapping something about not wanted to be coddled and being willing to do anything to avoid even a sliver more pain.

“Have you eaten today?” are the words that finally pass Hobbie's lips.

Wedge's eyes wander to the chrono on the corner of the desk: well past noon. No, he hasn't, and usually he would be starving, but not now. The very thought of food makes his stomach turn.

“I thought not. Let me take you out somewhere. We'll get whatever you want.”

“Hobbie, I don't really feel like–”

“Or we can stay in. I'll fiddle with the base food synthesizer and get you some good old Ralltiiri comfort food, something fried and with lots of gravy. What do you say?”

Wedge knows he's trying to help. And though he'd rather retire to some private corner and try to choke down a few bites of a ration bar just to keep himself going, he thinks he owes a response to that.

“I can't promise to eat a lot,” he says.

Hobbie smiles at him. “As long as you try. That's all I'm asking.” He slides an arm around Wedge's shoulders and tugs him toward the door. “A Rogue needs to keep his strength up.”


End file.
